


Sombre Secret

by Maddiestj



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddiestj/pseuds/Maddiestj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one likes to be blindsided by their past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

A/N: I rather miss the Camille, the feisty “Top of my class, two commendations for bravery, shot twice, I worked undercover” Camille.  
So what to do? Well, write about her, of course. Undercover Camille, that is. There will be OCs that will show up in my stories from time to time that are germane to Camille and may possibly be to the canon characters as time goes on. This concerns Camille undercover from her time in Paris and before Guadeloupe.

Don’t own Death in Paradise. If I did, we’d at least get to see Juliette, Fidel’s wife from time to time. This is after Season Two.

No one can escape their past! Season Two, Episode 8

Prologue

 

She wanted to scream, rail and rage against the injustice of it all.

DS Camille Bordey stood with her colleagues of the Sainte Marie police force looking down at the semi nude male body that had washed up onto the beach. The body that Fidel and Dwayne had just turned over; the body she could picture 25 pounds ago.

She knew those facial scars; knew those tattoos; she especially knew that long scar across his abdomen. She could hear the other men talking: DI Poole telling Fidel about canvassing the beach for inquiries and Dwayne on his mobile calling for an ambulance; hear a question being put to her; hear the gentle lapping of the waves as they hit the beach.

Despite the hot Caribbean sun, she was cold. Very cold.

The threat of her lunch coming back up and the roaring in her ears did nothing to alter the fact that she had the feeling her life might be about to change.

Again.


	2. Stranger in My House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (-) means thoughts until I can figure out how to italicize here.

Chapter 1 – Stranger in My House

 

“Camille?” 

En route back to the station in the Land Rover DI Richard Poole watched Camille looking out of the passenger window. He had noticed that his DS had been unnaturally silent during his discussions with Fidel and Dwayne. Usually she had, well, something to say. 

When they had turned the body over, he had ventured a question to her and when she didn’t answer, had turned to look at her. Her eyes had been wide and she was…had…paled … for lack of a better word. But then she had blinked and answered the question. After that…nothing more. 

He truly did savor peace and quiet, but not from her. He wanted to find out what was wrong. They had a case. He needed her to be sharp. He needed everyone to be sharp. On their game. He knew he was still in the dark with his team as far as personalities went, even after two years. He knew their basics, but also knew that there were always things with people that influenced their behavior that he was not privy to.

\- Sometimes I wish I could pull myself inside out. In my head I can have wonderful conversations with everyone. As for talking, it’s like there’s a wonky rope bridge between my thoughts and being able to articulate them in a well-received manner. But then it’s just All. So. SENTIMENTAL. Emotions…they’re my Waterloo. Oh great! Waterloo! Napoleon! French! AGGGGH! -

He sighed and considered just leaving her alone but as the silence in the jeep began to be a bit more oppressive, so he felt he should try to talk to her again, even if he had to risk one of her patented blowups. And he was honestly tired of trying to look sideways at her while he was supposed to be watching the road.

“Camille?”

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Down at the beach I asked you a question and it took you a minute to answer. I was wondering if maybe you were perhaps summoning up the Voodoo Goddess of Intuition as you like to do,” he said trying to inject some humor into what was slowly becoming concern.

“I’m sorry about that. My stomach isn’t telling me happy things today. Once we get back to the station, I’ll pick up something in the market and then I should be better.” She gave him a smile and turned back to looking out of the window.

\- Merde! Isn’t this a pretty picture? He’s concerned. Really concerned. Wonderful. - She sighed to herself. Enough of that! - I’ll have to remind myself that even though he’s pedantic and annoying he’s also brilliant and observant. I need to get it together and right now. Mon Dieu, I don’t need this. Why now? Why this? I’m going to have to reach out. Haven’t done that in years. Things are different now. Will anyone care? - 

She gave herself an internal shake; stopped herself from rubbing her forehead, but couldn’t stop the kaleidoscope of images in her mind - that had escaped from the room she’d labeled Ugly Undercover Work I Never Want To Remotely Ever Think About Ever Again – and were being whipped across her mental landscape like items uprooted by hurricane winds.  
~~~

Newly minted Sergeant Fidel Best approached Constable Dwayne Myers and handed him one of the ice cream cones he’d picked up on his way back up the beach. They both faced the ocean.

“Dwayne, something is wrong.”

“With Camille? I know. We were facing her more than the Chief. She looked…”

“…terrified. I mean, look, we’ve seen her in all kinds of ways from happy to very upset and many in-between, but never anything like that.”

“I know. For a moment I thought she was going to pass out which would have been very unlike Camille. And she wasn’t talking. THAT is definitely NOT Camille!”

“I know the Inspector noticed. He’d asked her a question, then looked at us when she didn’t answer right away.”

Dwayne sighed. “Knowing the Chief, he’ll want to know what’s wrong. And also knowing the Chief, he’ll step on his own tongue when trying to get to the root of the problem. He’s probably antagonizing her in the jeep right now. You’d think after two years, he’d not only know better but know a better way to get things out of Camille.”

Nodding and chuckling, Fidel replied, “Yes, but you know how he is. He just has to KNOW!” “But,” and Fidel turned slightly serious, “whatever and however bad this is, it may leave go some of the tension between them.”

Laughing, Dwayne said, “Hey now! I think they think that we don’t know what’s going on. Remember when we found them after Hurricane Irma? That nest of blankets? The Chief’s fingers were on her face!” He crunched on the last of his cone. “Even though I don’t think they’re doing anything if you know what I mean, Erzulie is working overtime with those two.”

“Isn’t she?” Fidel finished his cone and patted his pockets looking for something. He produced two Wet Naps from his shirt pocket and handed one to Dwayne. “Look, Dwayne. I have a very bad feeling about this...whatever this is.”

“Me too.” Dwayne finished wiping his hands. “Let’s get back to the station to make sure Camille hasn’t smacked the Chief and see if we can get her to talk to us.”

Both men turned and trudged across the beach with thoughts on the woman they both loved like a sister.

**  
Camille was out of the jeep before the parking brake was applied. Richard watched her square her shoulders and walk determinedly down to the market. He watched her for a couple of minutes until she disappeared into the crowd and he turned and made his way up the stairs to the station. He knew her reply to his question was a sketchy answer at best. His concern for her was beginning to override his ever-present concern about the heat. - I hate being helpless where she’s concerned. We need to identify that body. I think the answer is there. -

Making her way through the throngs of people in the market, Camille made a beeline for the stand that sold pickled ginger. Hopefully this would settle her stomach and she could put on a semi professional work performance. She doubted it, but hope springs eternal. She popped some in her mouth and started back to the station.   
\- Mon Dieu! I want to run – far, fast, to anywhere but here. I mean, it could just be a coincidence that…that…he...washed up on this beach. -

But Camille Antoinette Bordey knew there was no such thing as coincidence especially in her line of work. 

Pausing on the threshold of the doorway, she looked to the skies and mouthed one word.


	3. Man of Mystery

Man of Mystery

A/N: Meet the villain of our little piece who has a lot of internal dialogue. Don't forget anything inside the (-) means thoughts.

 

Guillaume Martin stepped into the lobby of the Jacaranda Spa and sighed. He’d been here several times and had taken part in many of the spa’s services and enjoyed his time here. It was relaxing, peaceful -- and profitable. 

At least it used to be. 

The island of St. Marie had been his hub, his jewel in the crown. - What can you say about a place that barely, in my opinion, has technology? And mobile phones don’t count. Guadeloupe has a better handle on the technological aspects and that is why everything is usually sent over there. Yes, this small island works best for the things I have going on. -

Gradually, though, over the last two years, he had noticed a growing crack in parts of his profit machine and the loss some of the major players of his organization.  
His so-called partners had become first-rate bunglers. And they bungled because they got involved with women. The women were intelligent, independent, strong willed and some were dangerous. But still, after all…just women. Sergeant Lily Thomson had been all four. 

\- Ah Lily. You were something. So angry, so bitter, but so smart and clever. And nothing feeds anger and bitterness than being passed over consistently for a job you are very good at. It was very clever of James Lavender to recruit you, as we did need someone ‘official’ to keep things going in the right direction. And I did enjoy our ‘interviews’ as it were. James was weak but you weren’t. You were the type of woman he was drawn to and for what it’s worth, you were able to organize the business better than it had been. -

Martin smiled and spoke to spa staff that he recognized. - Unfortunately, neither of you were computer literate enough to create a ledger in a spreadsheet which could have been saved on a flash drive. But you also didn’t know that Charlie Hulme was shagging your partner’s wife and she would give him the combination to the safe. You were keeping your eyes on James and the business but we were keeping our eyes on your boss. Charlie Hume had been a bit lazy, shall we say, taken with the island and its laid back ways. He would never have figured it out if not for James’ wife. Especially since the trafficking had been going on for six years. Enter Detective Inspector Richard Poole. The man is a stickler. He is like the English bulldog. And can't be bribed it seems. I DID check into that. -

Martin looked up as the concierge called his name and approached with a bellman in attendance. He remembered coming to the spa years ago for nothing specific, just a chance to have some privacy, fresh air and sun. The island held memories for him – good memories if he considered them thus. Remembered striking up an acquaintance with Mr. Tipping the surgeon who owned the spa. Having the surgery. Realizing he didn’t look anything like his former self due to all the facial damage that had to be repaired. Listening to Tipping prattling on, over some extremely good whiskey on his boat, about how the spa was not quite up to par in the revenue department. 

He’d had an epiphany. 

While stopping just short of saying he’d invest money, he turned the conversation to suggesting Dr. Anna Jones whom he’d met through friends who had sung her praises with helping them with their business woes. Once Jones had been hired that had been the start of the “New You” piece. Not total facial reconstruction like his but total identity reconstruction for his clients and clients of theirs. It had been very profitable – until Detective Inspector Richard Poole. Again.

He’d seen Poole and the woman with him at the spa. Repeatedly. He told Jones to be careful and to avoid as much contact as possible with Poole. He hadn’t known about Jones’ dalliance with the fake Ron Vincent. 

Gossip on a small island gets about swiftly. Which was how Martin had come to learn about Richard Poole. How he’d been sent for to replace the murdered Charlie Hulme. How he had solved the murder of said Charlie Hulme and how this had removed James and Lily in one fell swoop. How he was now the new Chief of the St. Marie police force. How he constantly ranted about the heat and moaned about not being able to get a proper cup of tea on a consistent basis. How he repeatedly expressed a desire to return to London and how the Commissioner rebuffed all entreaties. How he tightened up the St. Marie police force. How that tightened Force was solving major and minor crimes at an impressive rate.

He sighed. - Detective Inspector Richard Poole and his team have proved to be formidable here on St. Marie. I never considered Hulme any type of a threat. I had Lily in the station and I totally dismissed Myers and Best. Poole has been destroying my major enterprises: the human trafficking, the nice thing we set up here at the spa. Even that fool Adrian ended up being caught here and all because he got involved with that woman, Rose, who found out about the money laundering. -

Something again destroyed by Richard Poole.

Martin responded to the small talk from the bellman. It only took a piece of his attention. - I chose this island as my hub because it’s such a small island. Not anything in the Caymans where everyone seems to set things up; not Switzerland. Not any place people would even consider. -

But now St. Marie was proving to be too hot and Martin had begun to restructure his organization with a new hub at its center. - I do have a few things left. - But Martin was not a stupid man. He had seen how many of his ‘clients’ had begun to take their business elsewhere. He could not have that. He had vowed many years ago to never ‘not always have enough’ like his parents and be able to have power, money and any and everything he wanted. He wasn’t about to lose that now.

He realized not every crime Poole solved was related to his interests, but Richard Poole had become a black hole to his business concerns and he would have to be dealt with. Martin hated getting his hands dirty. But sometimes it was necessary. He’d already thrown down the gauntlet. A puzzle as it were. - What’s that phrase? If you want something done, and done correctly, you should do it yourself. -

And Guillaume Martin, like Richard Poole, liked to have things done correctly. Upon entering the room, he watched the bellman put his luggage on the folding stand, tipped him and closed the door. He unpacked and put everything in its proper place in the suite.

After pouring himself a glass of water, he wandered into the living room area and decided to sit out on the balcony. Fresh air helped him think; he had much to ponder and things to plot.

\- And then there was Camille. Beautiful Camille. -

His fingers tightened on the glass.


	4. Long Day's Journey

Anything in brackets [] means a thought. Still clueless about the italicization of pieces of text! Ugh!

~~~

Long Day’s Journey

 

Back at the Honoré Police Station……

Fidel had called Juliette on the way back to the station and told her he’d be home late. Possibly very late. He and Dwayne had come back to a very silent office. They kept exchanging looks and trying to figure out how to talk to Camille. The only noise was the fans whirling overhead. Both men stood in the doorway and watched Richard sitting at his desk look up at Camille and back down at his desk. Several times. [Wonderful! Even HE doesn’t know what to say. Of all the times for him not to say anything inappropriate, it would have to be now! C’mon Sir, just say something – anything. Something to get her talking even if she’s shouting at you.] Fidel made his way over to his desk while Dwayne went straight to the coffee machine. 

Placing a cup to the right of her monitor, Dwayne skirted around her desk and said, “Chief. The ambulance took the body to the morgue and the Coroner will call us with a report before the end of the day. I’m going to go over there to get fingerprints and retrieve any evidence they collect once they’ve finished.”

“Good, Dwayne,” replied Richard, noticing Camille had acknowledged neither the coffee nor Dwayne’s report. He leaned back against his desk and waited for Fidel’s report.

“I checked the beach,” interjected Fidel, “and no one seemed to know who the man was. A few people, though, thought he looked familiar, like someone they’d seen recently. They couldn’t exactly pinpoint where, just that they thought they had seen him around the island.” Richard noticed Camille flinch slightly at this. “Also, we both checked with the fishermen and none of them had ever seen him nor had any of them noticed a body caught up in anyone’s propeller blades.”

“Good job, Fidel. Once we get the autopsy report and Dwayne gets the fingerprints we can start the identification process.” A loud noise startled the three men and they watched as Camille shoved her chair back and ran to the restroom. They could hear her retching violently.

Someone sighed. 

“All right, then....” began Richard.

“Ok, look, one of us needs to go check on her, “interjected Fidel hurriedly, looking at Richard who was now wearing his patented ‘deer in the headlights’ look. That look he got when it came to emotions, women, people yelling at him and especially Camille.

“Hrm…” Richard began, staring back at Fidel. 

Dwayne huffed loudly. [ I am not playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with this. ] “I’ll do it. See what I can find out.” [Nothing but big chickens – the both of them. And Fidel with a wife!]  
He made his way over the door, listened and came right back. “She’s crying! This is NOT good. Who is this man? I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

“Me neither. Camille is fearless,” Fidel stated emphatically. “Sir, we’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”

Richard nodded. “Yes. Yes, we do. Dwayne, call over to the Coroner’s and see how far along they are with that report and find out if you can go over now and deal with the fingerprints.”

“I’ll go with him and see to the evidence, Sir,” said Fidel quickly.

“Good, Fidel, good. The sooner we can start, the better.”

Dwayne finished his conversation and hung up the phone. “Chief. They say I should come now and by the time we get there they’ll be finished.” Dwayne picked up his fingerprint equipment and Fidel the evidence case and they left.

It took Richard approximately 30 seconds to realize they had left him alone with Camille again. But this time it’s an overwrought and upset Camille. He glared in the direction of the doorway, and then sighed. [ Oh god! I am so out of my depth with this. Camille is the one who usually handles upset and stressed people. I’m rubbish at this. ] He rubbed his hands over his face several times. He looked toward the restroom door. [ Suck it up, Poole, Camille needs you. ] He thought back to the time when her friend Aimee had been killed and she’d been very upset and distraught. [ But strong too. She kept going despite being upset. And no matter what, she’s always been there for me no matter what. ] He thought back to the odious Doug Anderson. [ Yes, I can do this! Needs must. ]

Just as he was hoisting his posterior away from the desk, he heard the restroom door open. 

****

 

Camille sat on the toilet seat and tried to slow her breathing and waited for her racing heartbeat to get back to normal. [ Normal! Hah! ] She had been in and out of a daze since her return to the station from the Market. She tried to do some work, but the memories kept coming hard and fast. She was aware of Richard trying the watch her surreptitiously. [ If it were any other day than this, I’d just giggle and smirk. But today’s not just any day, is it? It’s not every day that something unholy comes back to haunt you. ] Realizing her heart wasn’t beating as fast as it had been and that she’d been in the restroom for quite a while, Camille ran some water in the sink and washed her face. The face that stared back at her was tired, wan, and unhappy and had bloodshot eyes. In fact her entire face looked puffy. [ I know I’m going to have nightmares tonight. Good thing Maman has some friends visiting and she will be staying with them overnight. ] She had been aware that Dwayne had brought her coffee and had heard all of them talking about the body. Unfortunately, the part about being caught up in the propeller blades had coincided with a particularly gruesome memory and she had no choice but to bolt to the restroom. [ Well, so much for my ‘professional’ demeanor. My sprint in here put paid to that! Not that I was fully focused anyway. Merde! Why now? Why EVER? If they didn’t know something was wrong before, now they know that there is SERIOUSLY something wrong. ] She balled up the paper towel and tossed it in the bin, turned and reached for the doorknob. [ And if my luck holds, and it should, there will only be Richard outside in the station and he will look at me and try to be supportive and stumble over his words. ] She sighed to herself and thought about Aimee and the orchids he’d given her as his way of saying ‘I’m sorry for what happened to your friend’. [ But this is so much more than a friend dying. So very much more. I may have to revisit a very ugly time in my life. A time that despite all the therapies, damn near destroyed me. ]

When Camille got back to her desk, and sat down she noticed that the cup of coffee had been replaced with a glass of cold water. And a jelly baby on a napkin. Yellow and shaped like the sun. She felt herself tearing up, but held fast as she didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than she knew he already was. She took a sip of water and held up the jelly baby, smiling and nodding her thanks before turning back to her monitor.

“Where are Dwayne and Fidel?”

“Over at the Coroner’s picking up the reports and taking fingerprints. They should be back momentarily. You were in there a while.” [ How can I be this stupid? See? Rubbish, just rubbish. ]

“Camille?”

“I know. I just have to get my head around this. I won’t let it get in the way of the investigation.”

Dwayne was first through the door and heard the two talking. He motioned Fidel to keep quiet as he came through the doorway with reports and equipment.

“Did you…did you…recognize the body?”

“There is a possibility, but I don’t like to speculate nor use my ‘intuition’ for this.” She smiled sadly.

“Sir, we’re back. I’ve got some evidence and the man’s belongings.” 

“We scanned the fingerprints while we were at the morgue and had them sent over to Guadeloupe,” said Dwayne coming around his desk to sit down. “They promised a quick turnaround on the results.”

Both men kept looking between Richard and Camille, who had her back to them, trying to suss out anything. Richard shrugged.

Fidel logged into the station email. “Sir? The fingerprint report is back. Let me print that out.” He gathered up the autopsy report. “The victim was male, in his early 40s and Asian.”

“Asian?” asked Richard in surprise. “Do Asians normally come to this island?”

“Not normally, Chief, no.” [ But this isn’t normal and we all know that, don’t we? ]

Fidel continued. “He had been stabbed and his lungs were full of sea water. He also had serious facial scarring that was recent and old tattoos as well as other older wounds. Knife wounds and a long scar across his abdomen. The report says that type of wound was not made by a knife but by a much longer blade. ”

“A much longer blade? How long?” inquired Richard.

“It doesn’t say, Sir. But the report says from the landscape of the wound, the blade was thin and very sharp. The edges of the wound were clean.”

Dwayne retrieved the fingerprint report from the printer. “The report identifies him as Diego Morimoto, Chief. I will get onto Interpol and see what I can find out.” He started toward his desk.

“Great job, Team.”

“No. The report is wrong.”

“How’s that Camille?” asked Dwayne. All three men looked at Camille who was looking into the distance. They were surprised she had spoken. 

Richard looked walked over the Camille’s desk. “And you know this how?”

Fidel closed his eyes. [ Okay. This is going to be very bad. I just realized none of the phones have rung. Everything seems to be waiting for a particular moment and I think this might be it. ] He and Dwayne joined the group around the desk. 

“His name is…was…Rafael Otsuki. Japanese by nationality; Peruvian by birth. Rogue Yakuza.” All three men gaped at her.

“Camille?”

“I know this because I killed him.”

~~~

A/N: Next chapter we’ll meet Camille’s Calvary.


	5. These are Camille's People - or at least some of them

A/N: Here are some more of my OC’s. There will be explanations as the story goes as to their relationship with Camille. 

***

Philomene St. Cyr checked her equipment and readjusted her position. She was crouching in a makeshift lean-to on a warehouse roof at the dockyard in Terneuzen Port in the Netherlands. It was cold, windy and the freezing rain was coming down steadily. She was exhausted, cold, sleepy and tired of being wet. And she figured her partner was feeling the same way she did. They had started out following up different trails a week ago. They had perched on ledges, fire escapes, drunk more bad coffee and tea than should be allowed in dives, followed different people and leads; listened to more bizarre and creepy madness than they’d ever wanted to hear; Phil had even had to hang upside down from a building ladder using her night vision lenses to find their quarry and get the necessary information. All the roads led here.

She sighed and readjusted the Bubble’s circumference. This assignment could not have come at a worse time. But these situations don’t write themselves. 

The infrared monitor had logged 36 people in the warehouse across the way. Six adults, 30 children. Ayodele Ndoye, her partner in this assignment, signaled the arrival of a large truck. Phil readjusted the camera and pressed the shutter button on the remote. Once that was done, she pulled out her PAD and continued working on her notes for a presentation she was giving in three weeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ayodele working on her PAD as well.

“Phil?”

“Umm?”

“Remind me exactly why I’m on this assignment?”

“Because you know we always work in pairs.”

“True, but normally, I’m usually left to my own devices.”

Phil chuckled. “Complaining, Ayo?”

Ayodele looked up and laughed. “Hell no. I needed to stretch my legs, so to speak. By the way, that truck just finished off loading. Four adults, 12 children. I’ve got the logs from the shipping office. The freighter we want sets sail for Palembang, Indonesia day after tomorrow at 1:45am.” The camera zoomed in and clicked several times.

“Ok. Meiko, did you get all that?

“Yes, Ayo.”

“Good,” said Phil. “Get hold of Interpol and tell Armando to let Karel know we’ll give him a timetable in about 12 hours. Remind them both what is the point is here and the result we expect. And Meiko, don’t fight with Armando, ok? We don’t have time for that.” She turned her attention back to her PAD.

“Hmph. Ok. Boss?”

“Umm?”

“We got a call.”

“Ok.”

“Boss?”

“Umm?”

“Boss, it was Camille. She used her one of her magic words.”

Both women froze and looked at each other. “Which one?”

“Ambergris.”

Putting down her PAD, Ayodele looked up and asked, “What else did she say?”

“Nothing. She’s at work. She just mouthed it into the air. Give me a few minutes. I’ve got to get things over to Karel and I’ll speak to Lydia.”

Phil readjusted the timer on the infrared camera. It began taking pictures at 6-second intervals. “All right, but we’ve just added something to our clock.”

Meiko snorted. “Yes, I know. She sounded so hopeless. Boss, this is bad. She hasn’t used that word in, what is it now, seven years. Not since…not since…Oh no!”

“Yes. That time.”

“Phil, they just updated the manifest. The departure time for the freighter is still the same.”

“Thanks, Ayo.”

“All right,” said Ayodele. “I’ll send this up. And while this other matter is something I thought we would never, ever, ever, never have to deal with again, I know she’s terrified. You should be too. Not that what’s going on between you two now is any of my business.” 

Phil huffed loudly. “You’re right. It IS none of your business…not that that’s stopped you or any of the rest of you before.” The rain continued to come down in a steady pattern on the roof.

“It’ll be dawn in a couple of hours,” Ayodele said, yawning. “I’m going to try to catch 40 winks until 6am and then I’ll relieve you. We can pack up at 7:45. It’s a good thing the average person never looks up.” She stretched her arms and yawned again. “We know they’re not going anywhere until the freighter gets here. But we’ll have to collate the data we have and deal with all that coordination with Interpol and that ensuing drama in less than 12 hours. I hope this puts enough of a dent in this child sex slave operation.”

“True. While we can’t stop them all, anything we can do help those children and return them to their parents is good. We’ll need to map out a couple of scenarios for retrieval of our subjects. We have to wait until everyone’s on the freighter to do what we have to do,” replied Phil looking at Ayodele, “otherwise our agreement with Interpol is null and void.” She adjusted her hood. “Is there any more soup left in the thermos? If I have any more coffee, I’ll be insane.”

Ayodele walked over and handed down an insulated thermos then wandered off to the back of the lean-to. Phil poured herself some soup and turned her attention back to her readouts.

“Boss?”

“Umm?”

“Let’s talk about this Camille thing, ok? I don’t want this to blow up in any of our faces because you’re still a bit angry with her.”

“It won’t.”

“I beg to differ.”

Phil sighed. “What would you have me say? ‘Camille. I’m still angry with you because walked out?’”

“It’s a start. It’s been a time and I know you’ve seen each other since sparingly. But it’s not the same. However it’s both of your choices, your jobs and your business. You’ve got to talk to her. Be the bigger person.”

“Meiko, I’ve already been down that road and there was nothing but a huge pileup at the end of it.”

“So, to avoid the wreckage, you just take a detour? 

“Why not?”

Meiko sighed. “I’d throw up my hands if I had any. Boss, you’re both in a hazardous business. I know you freak when you hear she’s undercover because you can’t provide protection and you almost lost it when her cover was blown during that whole human trafficking thing that forced her back to St. Marie.” There was a rustling sound from behind. Phil turned around and saw Ayodele approaching her dragging her thermal sleeping bag. “Go back to sleep.”

Settling herself comfortably, Ayodele muttered, “Where’s that coffee? I’ll just be the insane one. Now, let the gabflogging continue.” She poured herself a mug of coffee. “I thank whichever goddess there is for her having had someone invent insulated mugs.” After taking a sip and smiling in approval, she said, ‘Now Phil, you know you can’t treat Camille like this. You’ve got to amend this anger…thing. If the situation were reversed, you’d be handing any of us this same lecture. And much more vehemently.” Ayo put up her hand. “Don’t bother trying to deny it, we’ve all been together far too long. So! Listen Up! Everyone was dead. We checked. And we know HE is dead. However, now it seems there might be a loose end somewhere.” Ayo looked over the rim of her mug. “You can stop flaying yourself now. We will fix what we can.”

“Boss, give it a rest.”

Ayodele continued looking at Phil over the rim of her mug. “We’re not trying to be callous here, but you’ve got to let your anger go and we, yes, we’ve got to help her get past hers too. We’ve also got to figure out what the hell is going on. Why she’s reaching out to us after all this time.”

Phil’s silence spoke volumes. The camera shutter continued and the laptop made periodic beeps indicating new updates. The shifting wind caused the rain to beat a staccato pattern on the lean-to’s roof.

Meiko had returned and jumped right into the conversastion. “Boss, you know I keep track of her as best I can. There’s a potential new man in the picture. And he seems to be different from all of the other fly by night knuckleheads she’d get into relationships with. And her team is very, very good.”

Ayodele took Phil’s mug and refilled it. “You know, if we’re going to do these types of stakeouts, I demand some stick-to-your–ribs soups. Ugh! What is this? Cream of what?” She sniffed. “Asparagus?? Gack!” she said in disbelief sticking out her tongue. She handed over the mug with a grimace and a shudder. “Let’s continue.”

Phil sighed and turned the palms of her hands up. “I don’t know why I’m still vexed with her. In the aftermath of all the injuries, there was so much rehab work to be done. Mental, emotional, physical, even spiritual. And all the therapy. It was a very long, horrible and incredibly tedious road. And then for her to want ‘out’, it was just too much after everything. You know how I am. But yes, even I think it’s time for things to get back on an even keel.” 

Ayodele nodded. “Glad you agree. That was a hard time for all of us.” She sighed. And I know none of us want to go through anything like that ever again.”

“I concur, Boss. But in the end, after all is said and done, she’s one of us.”

“Yes. Yes she is. And THAT is a good thing.”

“And let us not forget there’s that potential new man in the picture who’s not a knucklehead,” drawled Ayodele giving Phil the eye and grinning wickedly. “I’m looking forward to meeting him. Been a while since we were able to get on her case about that sort of thing. I’m looking forward to that with extreme and gleeful anticipation.”

“Yes, yes, yes, okay, okay. I’ll take care of it,” Phil rolling her eyes. “Or else I’ll never hear the end of it. Meiko, have Demetrius open up the house on St. Marie and put all the necessary pieces and precautions in place. Tell him to use the MYOB scenario with a dash of Bo Peep, a pinch of the Three Little Pigs and a soupçon of The Shadow. He’ll know what to do.”

“On it, Boss.”

“What house on St. Marie? We have a house there? Since when?” Ayodele observed the smug look on Phil’s face. “Oh, you’re just evil. E.V.I.L.E!!! You let us talk and talk and fuss about your and Camille’s relationship even though I’m sure Meiko already knew about said house, and you’d already decided to fix things.”

“Yes, I did or am or whatever the case may be,” said Phil laughing. “After all, we shouldn’t fight. At least not about the important things.”

“Hey, the rain’s stopped and the sun’s coming up,” said Ayodele stretching. “You know that’s Selwyn Patterson’s patch. St. Marie. He’s a right crafty bugger.”

“But not as crafty as we are. Boss, everything will be all right.”

“Yes, I know it will,” said Phil. “Now, let’s get this business handled and let’s go help our girl. I don’t like it that she’s this afraid of something. I’d also like to be warm and dry.”

“Amen to that,” said Ayodele.

“I’m going to talk to Erasmus and Lydia,” Meiko said. “Rendezvous at the plane tomorrow at 1500?”

“No, 1600.”

***

Guillaume Martin was standing in the St. Marie airport. The plane had finally arrived. Two hours late. That’s the trouble with these small island airports. He had nodded, smiled, and spoken to more people than he cared to. He waited the necessary thirty minutes for the passengers to disembark and walked over to the baggage claim to meet his compatriots.


	6. Chapter 6

Sturm und Drang

A/N: We’re getting there.  
Disclaimer: See Chapter One. And in addition to that disclaimer, it would nice to see toddler Rosie.

 

All three men were still reeling from her ‘I killed him’ comment. Finally Richard had asked her for more information but all she would say is ‘I can’t talk about it. No. Really, I can’t. It’s classified and I don’t have the authorization any more to retrieve the information’. After that she stopped talking. To anyone.

Each one of them tried separately to talk to Camille but to no avail. Fidel was kind; Dwayne was supportive and Richard was…Richard. At the end of the day everyone was beyond exhausted and opted to go their separate ways instead of getting together for the usual drinks after work. 

Richard had wanted to send her home but knew she’d start shouting or something else. What that could be he didn’t want to contemplate and he and the rest of the team had suffered through the rest of day. If there was something that pertained to her or needed her input, Fidel and Dwayne would go to her desk, say whatever needed to be said and leave anything that needed to be dealt with by her on her desk.

Despite appearances to the contrary, Camille was very much aware of what was going on around her in the station. Unfortunately, anything to do with work and her daily duties was steadily being overridden by the memory video snippets flashing through her head. On her way to work, she’d decided to update old case information and not to retreat the restroom again. She knew she was frustrating Richard who couldn’t seem to decide on which position to take with her: the ‘I need to know’ or the ‘I’m trying to be supportive’ position and she knew she was worrying Dwayne and Fidel. 

And it was HOT. Not just island hot, but Hell Hot! She had been very grateful that Richard had not resorted to his usual rants about the heat as the day wore on. Although he didn’t know it, his ranting would probably have pulled her back into focus but then again, it would have pushed her into a physical altercation with him.

***  
She was having a very restless, sleepless and tormented night. Despite the fact of having taken a hot shower and downing three strong rum cocktails, hoping against hope that they would just knock her out, she was unsuccessful on that front. The three nightmares she’d had as the night wore on each been more frightening and violent than the previous. 

After the last one left her sweating, screaming and in tears, she got up, washed her face and debated on reading or meditating. She hadn’t really done either one in a while and after weighing her options decided to read. Reading made her think about Richard and while that made her smile, she opted not to read. She was a voracious reader, and had understood Richard’s Sherlock Holmes reference to the ‘dog that didn’t bark in the night’, and had realized early on that he referenced many things from books he’d read and took great comfort in books. * Typical introvert.* 

She wasn’t always the ‘party person’. She liked her solitude as well. No, she’d meditate. She needed to, as her great aunt would say, ‘get her mind right’ if she was going to be of any type of use at work in…she groaned looking at the clock and noted the time of 4:12am...a little over three hours. Sighing, she got out a lavender candle, a large pillow to sit on and selected the Never Lose Your Heart album by Noel Pointer on her iPod. Settling herself comfortably, she lit the candle and activated the ‘Pod. 

As the opening bars of the first song began, she closed her eyes and began her breathing exercises.  
~~  
Guillaume Martin had had a very bad day. It had started at the airport when only five of his people had shown up when he was expecting eight. He had been told that the other three ‘no shows’ along with others in his organization had been ‘recruited’ away. It was looking like more was known about his problems than he had thought. After getting them to the hotel and into their rooms, he decided to check on a few things.

His day got worse once he’d ventured off to the bank and had been directed to the senior bank manager where he’d been told that “unfortunately, Sir, the woman whom you had given signage privileges to because she was overseeing your account had been arrested on murder and embezzlement charges”. There was a sizable chunk of money missing from the account and, “unfortunately, again, Sir, those funds are being held as part of the evidence and I cannot tell you when they would be released back into your account. Luckily, your account did not have to be frozen. Miss Vicky Woodward and her two accomplices were taken back to the UK to stand trial.” 

When he found out that DI Richard Poole had been the arresting officer, Martin didn’t know who he wanted to strangle more: Poole for shearing off another piece of his business or Vicky for being a greedy bitch. But then again, he knew how she was. * A woman again! When I get things back to what they were there will be no women hired in any position of importance.* He chuckled to himself. * But then again, there are important positions and there are Important Positions. *

No matter, he still had enough to do what needed to be done so he headed back to the hotel. Once there he called his people to a meeting in his suite and began to outline his plan.   
As the day turned into evening and the planning was progressing well, Martin thought he would go out to dinner and clear his head with the night air. He was tired of hearing the five whining about the heat during the meeting. Don’t these people ever go to the beach or picnics or just outside? He dismissed them to their own devices and told them in no uncertain terms before they left, NOT to get into any trouble. 

After showering and changing into casual clothes, he headed down to the lobby and got a taxi to take him to Pierre’s where they smiled and treated him like the VIP he was. Over appetizers he struck up a conversation with the woman dining alone at the next table and invited her to dine with him.   
~~  
Juliette Best lay with her head on her husband’s chest with his arm around her shoulder. She wasn’t sleeping and knew he wasn’t either. Fidel was worried. Worried about something having to do with work. There were some things he talked about regarding work and others were of a confidential nature. While Juliette adored her husband and was pleased and proud of him for passing the Sergeant’s exam and getting the promotion, she knew that sometimes a policeman’s lot was not always a good one. Things could be dangerous. But a policeman is what Fidel wanted to be and she supported him in that. She also knew he would move Heaven and Earth to protect her and Rosie, and even though that was a wonderful thing, who would protect Fidel?  
~~  
Over the next three days on the Island of St. Marie, several things happened.   
~~  
On the first day, several people who were out and about in the middle of the night claimed to have seen several very large container trucks on the island roads but no one could find any trace of them later that day; one of the larger houses with a lovely view of the ocean and near the rainforest was being moved into; and the three men at Honoré Station watched as their colleague became more and more withdrawn as the day wore on. 

A private jet landed at St. Marie airport and dislodged three individuals, two animals, a great deal of luggage and trunks at 10pm. They were the only flight to arrive. The last commercial flight landed at 8:20pm. A man with a large SUV met them. The jet’s crew helped load everything up before they boarded the plane and left.  
~~  
On the second day the island’s entire network was down for three hours in the middle of the night; several small companies had been hired for contract work; many women in the market were fanning themselves over a man who was half Greek and half Italian (with a smattering of French thrown in) who ran the large house with the lovely view; the three men of the St. Marie Police Force were still rendered helpless with not knowing what to do with the tetchy mess that was supposed to be Camille Bordey; a very angry man read a report over breakfast and had begun to finally grasp the fact that what he had built up was crumbling down around his feet and that he had lost a very important connection and another piece of business; a 6’8” bald and stunning Senegalese woman stepped into Government House; and Richard Poole had a very awkward conversation with Catherine Bordey.


	7. Men with (Maybe) A Plan

Disclaimers in the first chapter.

Both Fidel and Dwayne seemed to have been on the same wavelength and got into work within minutes of each other. Noticing Camille wasn't in yet, Fidel said, "You know I didn't really get much sleep last night." He began booting up his computer.

Dwayne had started up the morning coffee. "I didn't either. Something has to be done and if yesterday is anything to go by, we don't know how to do that!"

Fidel rubbed his face. "Camille killing someone. Which, yes, I know she's been a police officer and was undercover for a long time and all, okay, you know, it's just hard to picture that she do that."

"I know, but we're police officers and sometimes that happens," replied Dwayne handing Fidel a cup of coffee, then heading over to boot up his computer. "But the fact that she could identify the body with the face mutilated like that means that she'd seen the body up close in a personal setting. And she knew his name. I can't even find that in the database. Whatever she was involved in is so classified, it's practically non existent."

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing that we can use," said Dwayne. "Whenever I put that name in the computer, the clock just sits there and I have to reboot. Which tells me that that is classified in ways I don't know how to access." He sighed. "But I will tell you one thing that I have always thought about Camille."

"Which is?"

"I think Camille is wasted here. I know she has skills that she can utilize that go beyond the ones she uses here."

"And you know this how?" asked Fidel.

"I had drinks with a friend of mine who's on the police force in Guadeloupe. He told me about a time when Camille was working with his unit and a unit from the Bahamas. Involvement in a sting that went sideways. They got into a situation and had to fight their way out, guns and everything. He said Camille was a combination of Cleopatra Jones, Coffey and Foxy Brown all rolled into one!"

"Who are they?"

"Look it up on YouTube." Dwayne rolled his eyes. "You youngsters don't know anything, do you?"

"Well, whoever they are, they aren't here and we still need to get to the bottom of our Camille problem as well as solve this murder," replied Fidel. "And outside of asking the Commissioner, because he seems to have brought her here and, which by the way, I'm not doing, who else is there to ask? And do we even know the questions that need to be asked?" inquired Fidel stepping out onto the outside deck with his coffee.

Dwayne joined him and they watched people setting up their stalls for the daily market. There seemed to be a breeze today. "Well, we'd better think of something and quick. We need to make some headway. She'll be here soon. I doubt she'll call in sick."

Both men sipped their coffee and gazed out over the market. Suddenly, Dwayne elbowed Fidel.

"What?"

"Look over there." And Fidel and Dwayne watched the Land Rover approaching the station. As Richard disembarked from the jeep, a woman approached him from the market and handed him a small package and said something to him. They watched him take the package, looking like he wanted to run away, but mouthing 'thank you'.

Grinning, Dwayne said, "I think I see what to do and I know who to ask."

"You do? Who?"

"Just follow my lead."

"Dwayne, if this is another one of your 'do it my way' things…."

Smiling, Dwayne said, "C'mon. Don't argue. Just follow. It will all fall into place."

Fidel sighed.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Richard Poole, briefcase in hand, came up the stairs to the Honoré Police Station and found both Dwayne and Fidel outside.

"Good morning Gentlemen. Is there a reason you're out here and not in there? Outside of the obvious."

"Morning Sir."

"Morning Chief."

Fidel looked at Dwayne. Dwayne sighed. Smooth Fidel! So much for small talk before just jumping in! You Big Chicken. You're a Sergeant now!

"Chief, Fidel and I have been talking and we figure someone should talk to someone about Camille. And we think that someone who should talk to someone should be you."

Richard looked at the two of them then peered past them into the station.

"She's not here yet," volunteered Fidel.

"Ah," said Richard stepping into the station with Fidel and Dwayne right on his heels. He put the briefcase and the package on his desk and went over to the coffee machine. As he was talking to them, he'd noticed that they both looked tired and he was sure he didn't look any different. He was sure they'd been up most of the night worried about Camille. He knew he had. He'd spent most of the night talking to Harry…

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Richard had arrived at his bungalow, he was extremely tired. It hadn't really surprised him that Camille had killed someone. Things like that happen in the course of a police officer's duties. Not all the time, but occasionally. And she had been undercover. Undercover is a world unto itself.

Opening the door, he made his way inside pausing in his kitchenette to put on the kettle and he piled his purchases from the market on the counter. On a normal day, he and the rest of the team would have dropped by Catherine's for drinks and all. But not today. Today everyone pretty much fled yes, that was the exact word for what happened from the office.

Richard took a shower and put on the pajamas with the blue stripes. He smiled to himself as he heard Camille's voice saying 'It was worth it to see those pajamas again'. There were other things she'd said about his pajamas but honestly that was his favorite. (He always mentally ran away from the 'you should sleep naked…I do!' comment). He strolled back to the kitchen to make his tea, pulled together Harry's dinner and decided to make sandwiches for his own dinner. He didn't have the energy to do anything more complicated.

He pulled out the case file and Camille's file. He then put in a call to DI Ricketts of SOCA who had come to island looking for Rose DuChamps. He and the team had helped him capture Aidan Miles. He was still worried about Catherine. He had known they were seeing each other even though his team thought him oblivious. But Catherine was Camille's mother and despite the fact of her hideously offensive Chicken Soup, she was among the few he could call friend here on the island or anywhere for that fact and he figured that Ricketts owed him a favor.

He opened the doors to the verandah "much better than deck or porch" and put both his plate of sandwiches and Harry's plate of 'Crunchy Mango Mash' as he called it on the top of the railing. Returning back inside, he picked up a chair, nabbed his tea and brought them outside. By the time he'd had two bites of his sandwich and a sip of tea, Harry showed up. Richard continued to eat his dinner, enjoying the breeze, the sound of the ocean, Harry's company and the overall peacefulness of the evening.

As he listened to the sounds of the ocean waves hitting the shore, he relaxed into a contemplative mood.

He looked over at Harry only to find the lizard was already looking at him.

"I don't know what to do about Camille, Harry." Richard sighed. "I've never seen her like this and I'm worried. Whatever emotional upheaval she has she's usually able to work her way through it. I don't know if that will be possible this time. Dwayne says he can't even find out anything about whatever this undercover piece this was. There seems to be no starting point. And we've checked with SOCA and they don't know or at least they SAY they don't know." Richard sighed again. "Somebody somewhere knows something. I just have to figure out who that is." He applied himself to finishing one of his sandwiches and his tea.

"You know, Harry, there was a time when I thought…Harry?" The little lizard was no longer on the railing. As Richard shifted to look for him, he glanced down and saw that Harry had taken up residence on the arm of the chair. He chuckled and began again.

"You know, Harry, when I first got here I don't think I'd ever been so disoriented. It seemed like there was a phone call, my Super took it, looked around the room and said 'Poole!' And before I knew it, I was being sent not only out of town on assignment, but also out of the country. I think I had half an hour to pack and go. The car brought me home, I packed, the car took me to the airport and that was that. I was too hot, had no luggage and Good Lord, I'd never, ever been to a place like this! I don't think I've ever been further from London than Nice, in France," and Richard glanced at the lizard who seemed to have a most amused look on his face, "where I had a wonderful time, but sometimes the French can be irksome, and well, we won't tell Camille that, you know, that I had a wonderful time, eh?" Harry winked and Richard continued.

"As I told Sergeant Thompson at the end of the case that brought me here, she was brilliant and the case was baffling. I also knew that Dwayne considered me some gigantic git and Fidel was like a puppy wanting not only to please but also to learn. I'm not THAT unobservant! And Camille…so much like a chameleon – I can see why she'd be good undercover. And I do believe if I hadn't caught up to her with that boat, she would have gotten away." Harry stuck out his tongue and Richard chuckled as he got up to make himself another cup of tea. Once back he continued.

"And the Commissioner! I think livid aptly describes my feelings at the backroom dealings regarding my career and myself. And then to be thrust into working with someone whom I considered most unprofessional. And the lack of resources here to do the job! Everything is so basic. White board. Dwyane's metal detector…things like that. It's like school science again, but all in all, it has been rather fun doing things without all the technology. What's that term? Yes. Old School."

Richard took a couple of sips of his tea and listened to the ocean lapping up on to the shore. Shifting in his chair, he glanced over at Harry and said, "I'm learning my way around this island. People actually speak to me. I think this is all due to the respect that the team gets and gives. This team is very important to me. I've never really been part of anything like this. You know, a team that works with me and not just tolerates me. I've come a long way from thinking of them as staff, then colleagues. They're pretty much family now. I mean I'm actually UNCLE Richard to Rosie. I feel important to them which sad to say, I don't think I've ever felt that way even with my own family."

Harry skittered across the arm of the chair and across the back to end up perching on Richard's shoulder. Both males looked out into the night silence.

"I'm sure you know how I feel about Camille. I know you like her. I just need to figure out what to do! How to make this all better! What exactly happened? How to make this all go away!" Richard's level of frustration was rising. Harry shifted his position on Richard's shoulder and waited for him to settle down.

Sighing, Richard said, " I'm going to have to talk to the Commissioner. Not really something I'm looking forward to doing. He always seems to have an agenda."

Harry clambered down from Richard's shoulder back to the arm of the chair. They looked at each other and Richard nodded at the lizard. "Yes, it's time for me to get to bed. Maybe I'll think of something while I'm sleeping. Good night Harry."

Harry winked at Richard and scampered down to the deck and off into the night while Richard rose to return everything back into the bungalow.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Having only managing to drop off to sleep around 3:30am, Richard rose at 6:30am to begin his day more tired and frustrated than when he went to sleep and also no closer to any type of a cohesive plan to solve either problem: the dead body or Camille.

Now that he was at the station, he listened to Dwayne's idea with a deep sense of dread once he realized where the plan was going. Both Fidel and Dwayne looked steadily at him in a way that he knew they were right and this was something He had to do. He had to beard the Lioness in her den.

He had to talk to Catherine Bordey.


	8. How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers in the first chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: Thanks to all who’ve reviewed, made it a favorite, given kudos and followed this story. Appreciate it! 
> 
> My French is slightly crap. Apologies with that. I have now decided to call this my Paladin Universe. So with saying that, there may be a crossover. I just have to figure out how to do it.
> 
> Both Richard and Catherine are worried about Camille and they're both snappy with each. They'll apologize in a bit, but not right now!
> 
> Sorry this took so long. Here we go! 
> 
> *** Means it should be italicized! GRRR! How do you do that here???!?!?!?!?!

Shifting his feet while standing at the doorway, DI Richard Poole couldn’t decide which was worse: being called up to see the House Mother at his boarding school or getting ready to have a practically personal conversation with Camille’s mother. He knew she was inside La Kaz as today was the day her vendors made their major deliveries. He was going to rue this day and probably the conversation but Camille’s well-being as well as moving forward on the case was important. He should have known something like this was coming. Something he wasn’t going to like. Especially when Dwayne and Fidel met him together outside the station. Usually it was Dwayne who was trying to put something over, never Fidel. But there were both of them were in front of his desk eyeing him while he was booting up his computer.

_________________________

 

“All right gentlemen. What is it?” Richard was alternately getting unnerved and then irritated at the prolonged silence.

“Chief,” began Dwayne. “We,” and he indicated Fidel and himself, “were talking and we think that someone needs to talk to Camille’s mother. There is a possibility, remote, but still there, that she may know something.” Richard eyed both his officers warily.

“You see, Sir,” piped in Fidel, “We think that even though the Commissioner brought Camille here and may even know her, maybe her mother knows something else that can help us get to the bottom of things.”

Richard eyes narrowed more than they had been. “Sounds good. I’m not sure how that would work, but if you two want to go over there, you can.”

“Um, no, Sir, um,” replied Fidel quietly looking at anything except Richard. “No…

“Chief,” said Dwayne sliding into Fidel’s stumbling with a roll of his eyes, “We think it should be you who should talk to Catherine. You are the Chief. It falls to you to do it.”

Goggling, Richard retorted, “Me? You want ME to talk to Catherine Bordey? Me?” Richard rubbed his forehead. “I find this amazing especially coming from YOU, Dwayne, who usually goes off on his own in this type of situation. You’ve done it before.”

Dwayne rubbed his forehead. “I know that Chief, but this is a police matter and that means that YOU have to handle it.” Dwayne imagined he could see little beads of sweat popping out of the Chief’s forehead. If he starts hyperventilating…

“Sir,’’ said Fidel gently. “You know it falls to you to handle this. Not only do we need to get Camille back on her feet but we’ve also got to solve this murder.” Fidel started to rub his own forehead and stopped when he realized they were all doing that. “You know, we’re all sympathetic, but we’ve spent two days worried about Camille and not doing anything to make headway with this murder. We have to start or the Commissioner will be on our backs.”

Richard just stared wide-eyed at his two officers. Me? Me talk to Catherine Bordey? I’ve insulted her, her food, her lack of milk, her Frenchness despite the fact that she has honestly been nothing but kind to me. *** AAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!! Oh Lord, what can I say? What will I say? Oh God! This is usually Camille’s job. Dealing with the emotional issues during cases. Talking to women. Talking to her mother. This is Camille’s job! This is Camille’s…job…that she can’t do because she’s a bit off center at present. ** Richard sighed. **Dwayne and Fidel are right. It’s up to me. This time it’s my job.***

These thoughts flew through Richard’s mind in the time Richard looked down at his desktop and back up at the two men in front of him.

“All right. Yes. I’ll handle it.” Richard looked at his watch. “Camille should be here in a bit. We don’t all need to get caught standing in a group around my desk. It looks like we’re up to something.” 

“Great, Chief!”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“I’ll go over around 9:45 this morning.” Richard logged into the system while Fidel and Dwayne made their way back to their desks bumping fists in the process and was all busy working when Camille stepped into the station.  
_________

Richard was fully engrossed with his computer when Fidel called to him. “Sir?”

“Yes, Fidel?” Richard continued typing.

“The lab in Guadeloupe is sending back some of the evidence with documentation, Camille just went into the restroom, it’s 9:42 and you have a meeting and don’t forget your briefcase.”

“You should go right now, Chief. We’ll cover for you.”

Richard took a deep breath, opened his drawer and popped a jelly baby in his mouth, got up and scooted around his desk, snagging his briefcase in the process and made his way out of the door.  
___________________

After clearing his throat and straightening his tie for the fourth time, Richard decided to suck it up (he also realized he’d been standing there for 10 minutes) so he knocked on the door.

“Richard!” exclaimed Catherine Bordey as she realized who was standing in her doorway. “What are you doing here at this time of the day?” Her eyes got big and she gasped. “Is there something wrong? Is it Camille? What’s wrong? Where is she?”

Richard just stared at Catherine and her machine gun delivery of questions. ***Damn! She’s already realized it’s something to do with Camille. Now what do I do? Please don’t let her start crying or anything like that. I haven’t even formulated what I’m going to say! ***

“Madame Bordey…Catherine…um, would you mind if I came in? We can talk inside.” **So if you get emotionally crazy and French, we’re already somewhere where there are tissues and towels and whatever women need at times like this. ***

Catherine led them to a table and they both sat down. Richard was still trying to put together the conversation in his head and started fiddling with his tie. When he finally looked up, he found Catherine giving him the exact same look as his House Mother, and he also realized it was a look that constantly found its way onto Camille’s face and with that Richard quailed, snapped to and began to expound for the reason of his visit to La Kaz.

*** Where do I start? And a little voice that sounded so much like Camille in his head said, ***From the beginning of course!*** So he took a deep breath and plunged into the story.

He told her about Camille’s behavior and the man named Rafael Otsuki and how he was part of Camille’s undercover work from years before and there seemed to be no starting point.

“It’s all so much of a jumble; all these pieces but nothing makes any sense. It’s like a puzzle that has no corner…it’s like someone loaded a box full of puzzle pieces but left out 25% of it. None of us at the station know how to approach Camille, we’ve tried, but she’s said that whatever evidence there is she has no authorization to retrieve it. And we’ve got to get a handle on this case as well. I feel that they are all tied up together.” He sighed. “And the fact that the man was killed and washed up on the beach here shows there is a possible connection to Saint Marie.”

“Richard. Are you here to ask me a question? Because all you’ve done so far is tell me things. Are you more concerned about the case or Camille? Which is it? And what are you doing with Camille? Is she still on duty or relieved?” Catherine looked across the table at the Inspector.

Angrily, Richard replied, “I’m concerned with both, Madame! Both the case and Camille are equally important. Camille is important to all of us, and yes, she is still on duty. She can still perform her duties. She is not catatonic. She is merely…silent.” Richard huffed. “A question? My question to YOU, Madame, is... is there anything you know about her cases and by that I mean undercover cases Camille worked on that would be able to shed any light on the current situation? There has got to be a starting point and I believe that Camille, and possibly you, can provide that opening clue!” Richard pressed his palms down on the table and leaned toward Catherine.

Narrowing her eyes, Catherine looked at Richard and hissed, “Do. Not. EVER. Take that disrespectful tone with me! EVER! I have put up with your rudeness and your frustrated pouting! Now, this is what I will say…the word ‘undercover’. Does that not mean ‘secret’? There is nothing I can tell you! Rien! Camille has never spoken to me about her undercover cases. Why would she?” 

In the tense and angry silence, she thought a bit and caught herself right before she gasped out loud! 

***Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! I think I know what this about. At least the Otsuki part. That was the first time Camille killed anyone up close. The first time she got blood on her from killing a person at, what is it called, ah, yes, close range. A gun kills from a distance. A katana does not. ***

And Catherine Bordey thought back to a day many years ago in a hospital on Lake Como in Italy when she was ushered into a room with one bed that held her broken, beaten and battered daughter.

*** “Camille! Petite! Camille!” Catherine covered her mouth with her left hand and with tears streaming down her face she sat down in the chair by the bed. She reached out to take her only daughter’s hand but both hands were bandaged with several of the fingers set with splints. She watched Camille’s face. Her eyes were closed. Catherine listened to all the beeps and other sounds in the room. Looked at all the machines attached to her child and she wanted to scream. Looked at the sunlight streaming in through the paneled curtains over the windows. Looked back at Camille. The doctor came in to talk to her. Most of the things the doctor told her were wrong with Camille seemed to involve the words ‘broken or sprained’. Fingers, clavicle, shoulder, left wrist, pelvis, toes on her left foot and after that Catherine had pretty much shut out what the doctor was saying and was trying to keep herself from vomiting. For a horribly selfish moment she thought, I’ll never have grandchildren, and then she mentally shook herself in anger and focused back on the doctor.

“Madame Bordey. Your daughter’s injuries as I’ve just described them to you are very serious, but not so serious that they cannot be repaired. THAT is the easy part. She is young, strong and in good shape. The hard part is all the therapies that will be involved in her recovery. And they will be hard and they will be long.” The doctor looked down at the clipboard and back up at Catherine. “Also, right now, we have her sedated but on a series with buprenorphine.”

Puzzled, Catherine asked, “What is that? I’ve never heard of it.”

“I don’t believe you would,” replied the doctor. “It’s used to treat heroin addiction.”

Wide-eyed and angry, Catherine stood and advanced on the doctor retorting, “Heroin addiction? Heroin? My Camille is NOT an addict. JAMAIS! NO! JAMAIS! I refuse to hear that!”

“No,” said the doctor gently and put a hand on her arm. “No, she is not but she is very close.” Fists clenched Catherine stared down at her daughter. “This case Camille has been occupied with has been most difficult and from what I understand from my colleagues treating two other young women down the hall who were with your daughter with one in a bit more serious condition with most everything including the addiction all of them are very lucky to be alive.”

Catherine had a bit of an inkling about the woman more seriously injured but right now her concern was for Camille and how to assist with her recovery. “Tell me about this drug, Buen, Bepren…” Frustrated, Catherine looked at the doctor.

“Buprenorphine is a recent addition to the array of medications now available for treating addiction to heroin and other opiates. This medication is different from methadone, which used to be pretty much the standard treatment for heroin addition, in that buprenorphine offers less risk of addiction and can be prescribed in the privacy of a doctor's office. But due to the severity of her injuries, we are hoping to treat that and then be able to focus on her physical injuries.”

Both Catherine’s and the doctor attention caught due to the alarm going off on one of the machines attached to Camille. The doctor put Catherine off to one side while a nurse came in to provide assistance. Camille was waking up and moving about. The doctor was speaking to Camille was the nurse adjusted the medication in the IV. Once Camille calmed down, the nurse left the room and the doctor motioned Catherine over to the bed.

“She’s awake but groggy. I can let you talk to her but must warn you, she will sleep soon.” Catherine nodded her thanks to the doctor and sat back down in the chair by the bed. She had only a few minutes to wait before Camille turned her head and saw her mother.

“Maman! Maman! C’est terrible. J'ai tué un homme ! Robert est mort ! Mes rêves sont hantés ! J'ai tué Otsuki. Il nous a blessé. Phil a tué Morimoto, mais j'ai tué Otsuki. Quel est ce conte anglais ? Shakespeare ? Macbeth, oui. Trop de sang. ...too beaucoup de sang! Je ne peux jamais faire le redresser. Qui j'est ? Je quel suis ? Je l'ai tué avec ce katana du cas ! Il nous a brûlés ! Comment je trouverai ma façon de retour à moi ? Comment, Maman ? Comment...” *

The sedative did its job and Camille was asleep again.

Catherine looked at her daughter and whispered through her tears. “Je ne sais pas, Petite. Je ne sais pas. Nous traiterons ceci ensemble et avec espoir tout sortira bien au final.” ** 

She put one hand on Camille’s arm and with the other retrieved her rosary from her pocket and began to pray just as she had done on the flight from Saint Marie. ***

Coming back to the present, Catherine Bordey continued to look at Richard Poole across the table. Finally, she broke the silence saying, “There is nothing I can tell you, Inspector. Nothing at all.” She looked at the clock on the far wall. “Now, if there is nothing else, I need to get back to work.” And with a swirl of her skirts, she was gone.

Confused and disheartened and still a bit angry, Richard set off from La Kaz back to the station. He knew there was something else Catherine Bordey wasn’t telling him. And it was something that may or may not be important to Camille’s behavior and maybe germane to the case. But he knew he wouldn’t get it out of her. He looked at his watch and realized he’d been gone more than an hour. Richard hurried along while still mulling on the conversation if you could even call it that and he fervently hoped that he wouldn’t be grilled by Hurricane Camille, that everything was all right at the station and that Fidel and Dwayne wouldn’t accost him right away about his conversation with Catherine. He needed to think.

Catherine Bordey made sure the door was securely closed behind the Detective Inspector. She locked it, then collapsed in a chair and burst into tears.  
______

Here are the translations!

* Translation Camille: I have killed a man! Robert is dead! My dreams are haunted! I killed Otsuki. He hurt us. Phil killed Morimoto, but I killed Otsuki. What is that English tale? Shakespeare? Macbeth, yes. Too much blood...too much blood! I can never make it right. Who am I? What am I? I killed him with that katana from the case! He burned us! How will I find my way back to me? How, Maman? How...

** Translation Catherine: I do not know, Little One. I do not know. We will work on this together and hopefully everything will come out all right in the end.


	9. Island Blues

On the third day, a 5’6” Creole woman was stepping into La Kaz at the same time that that same Senegalese woman was stepping into Honoré Police Station.

La Kaz

“Bonjour Madame Bordey.”

I know that voice. Stunned, Catherine whipped around and…stared. 

“Now I know you do not want me to let folks know that I caught you speechless,” said Philomene, chuckling.

Catherine came around the bar quickly and hugged the woman. Then burst into tears. Phil led her to a chair at a table away from the door then went to fetch a towel and a glass of water. Coming back, she sat down and placed the towel and the water in front of her. Then she looked, really looked at Catherine. Blotchy skin, sallow complexion, reddened eyes and a bit of a tremor in her hands.

Catherine patted her face with the towel and took a drink of water. “You’ve come here to help Camille?” she asked. “I don’t know how you know there’s something wrong, but that’s why you’re here, yes?

“Yes.”

“I want to say thank you, thank god, but I’m angry and I can only be that in an abstract way because I do not fully understand what is going on or maybe I should say what went on.”

“Of course.”

“Yesterday, Camille’s Boss, Detective Inspector Poole, came to see me. This is how I know something is wrong. He told me what had happened and how Camille is acting. He told me that she is silent, depressed and just not herself.” Catherine shook her head. “Despite the fact he really is one of the most irritating men I’ve met in a long time, he’s worried about Camille. So are Dwayne and Fidel. They also work with Camille at the station.” Catherine dabbed at her eyes. “I have friends visiting from out of town; they’ve rented a villa and I’ve been with them for the past two nights. That’s why I didn’t know anything about Camille.”

Catherine looked off into the distance. “When the Detective Inspector said the name ‘Otsuki’, I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then I did and thought back to that day when I first saw Camille in the hospital in Italy, she had been unconscious, but while I was talking to the doctor, she regained consciousness and spoke to me.”  
Taking another sip of water, Catherine eyed Philomene. “I know something serious happened to you and Camille and it had to do with some dangerous undercover work you were both involved in years ago. I only know what Camille said at that time. She had gained consciousness and was being sedated for the pain and also put on a medication to stave off a – and Catherine narrowed her eyes at Phil – heroin addiction.”

Catherine sighed. “She never said any more about it, even during her recovery at that hospital. All we knew is that something very bad happened where Robert died and you both went away for eighteen months. I know you were more injured than Camille. I would have considered telling Inspector Poole about that conversation, but Camille was undercover and she’d have to grant me permission to tell him the little I know. I don’t even know if she remembers what she said. She was being sedated again. Did she even know what she was talking about? The Inspector has already told me there is no starting point with Otsuki that he can find in the files. They can’t even find a file to begin with.”

“That much is true.”

“I suppose Camille and probably you, are the only ones who can, what is the phrase, connect the dots for him?”

“I’ve heard he’s rather good at connecting dots, solving puzzles and pulling things together from seemingly insignificant details.”

Catherine chuckled. “He’s brilliant at it. But even he has to have a starting point.” Catherine sighed. “Even when we were struggling after her father left, Camille never seemed afraid of anything. I don’t like hearing she’s like this. I will put off my friends and go home tonight and check on her. You know how she is about being coddled in any way.” Catherine reached across the table and grasped Phil’s hand. “You can fix this, Mene, can’t you? Please? Will you?”

“Yes. I believe so.” Phil pulled a card from her bag. “These are all the numbers where I can reached including the private line. On the back is the line for the house here. I will help Camille get through this…thing she’s going through now.” Phil sighed and fixed Catherine with a look.

“There is a major player still in the game and honestly, I wish none of this was happening here. I would rather bring about the denouement anywhere else but Saint Marie. If everything is brought to a head on the island, despite all I will do to not have that happen, I will tell you this: it will not be nice nor pretty and considering there are things involved with all this that I have not told Camille over the years, even when we were speaking to each other, and she will be quite furious with me.”

Phil and Catherine were both silent for a time. “If Camille can work past everything and if she agrees, then we will tell you what happened all those years ago. And if we do there can be no recriminations, no crying, and no demands. You just need to hear us and listen. Really listen. Both you and Maman are very bad at that! I know you both love us, but we’ve never been the typical girly girls. So when you hear the explanation, écoutez, n’est-ce pas?”

Sniffing, Catherine stood, smiled and said, “To quote you, yes.”

“Bon.” Phil stood smiling back. “Now I have to go. I still have some things to get into place and of course, see Camille. And don’t worry about Camille’s team. Someone is talking to them as we speak.”

“Will you come and see me again?”

“Of course I will…unless I’m banned or something,” she said, making a goofy face.

Catherine hugged her. “I see you’re still full of the devil.”

“Yep. Not much change there. Devilment is still my middle name! I may be back later today. Call Maman. I know you haven’t talked to her in two months.” Phil kissed Catherine good-bye and made her way to the door.

__________________________________________________________________

Honoré Police Station

 

Dwayne had just turned away from the front counter when a voice said, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Camille Bordey. Is she here by any chance?”

** That is a very nice voice. I wonder if the rest is just as nice. ** Dwayne turned back around only to find he was face to face with a woman’s collarbone. He raised his head and took in a slender long neck and followed that up to one of the most gorgeous faces he’d seen in a long time.

**Wow! **Flashing his ‘killer smile’ he asked, “You’re looking for Camille? And you are…?”

“Ayodele!” 

“Camille! Nanga def?” *

Camille hurried around to the other side of the counter. “You came! I didn’t know if you’d hear me or if anyone would come. I…I…just…it…Oh!” Ayo put her arm around Camille and pulled her away from the counter.

“Hey! Now, none of that, if you please!” Ayo noticed the facial expressions from the men on the other side of the counter. She lowered her head, saying, “Well, I’ll give you five minutes of that as long as you do it outside! You’re scaring your menfolk, you know.” Giving Camille a gentle shove towards the door, she watched her go, then turned and introduced herself.

“Good morning. My name is Ayodele Ndoye. I’m, as you’ve probably guessed, a friend of Camille’s.” 

“Detective Inspector Richard Poole. What did Camille mean by ‘I didn’t know if you’d hear me’ or ‘if anyone would come’?” Richard was working himself up into a towering rant. “Exactly WHO are you and why are you showing up now? This has something to do with that dead body we’re investigating that washed up on the beach. Camille’s been off center ever since it was discovered.”

**So this is Camille’s Richard. Pugnacious comes to mind. And he’s frightened. They’re all frightened. For her. You can see it plainly on their faces.**

“I’m Fidel Best and that’s Dwayne Myers.” Fidel came closer to the counter. “Look. We need to know what you know. You come in here; Camille runs to you babbling and does what you say. We’ve been trying to get more than twenty words out of her for nearly a week!”

“Yes, she’s been very NOT Camille. She hasn’t even had coffee in five days!”

“Camille? Five days with no coffee? Well, that’s a serious issue if ever I’ve heard one.” Her humorous response fell flat as Richard, Fidel and Dwayne all fixed Ayo with almost identical glares.

“Good afternoon Team. I see you have met Ms. Ndoye.” All eyes turned to see Commissioner Patterson standing in the doorway. “It seems the dead body is from an undercover case Sergeant Bordey was involved in many years ago.” Stepping further into the room, he said, “It has been requested by Interpol and the Met that Ms. Ndoye and her team are to be given any and all assistance they require. I have agreed.” 

The three men goggled at him. 

“Respectfully, Sir,” Richard began somewhat angrily, “Is there any information at all that WE are to be privy to? How classified is this? We’re tired of running into bureaucratic walls. Even SOCA won’t talk to us and we’ve solved two very important cases for them. They could at least show some respect. They referred us to Interpol and no one there will give us any information at all. We can’t do our job, which is, if I’m not mistaken, solving this murder, if we don’t have or can’t get any access.”

The Commissioner eyed Richard in silence. As time went on the silence was being to become oppressive. “The decision has been made. Both teams will work together. Ms. Adoye’s team has the lead due the sensitive nature of the assignment.” The Commissioner looked over at Ayo. “I’ve sent Sergeant Bordey over to Government House on an errand. She should be returning here in about 30 minutes.” He turned to leave. Pausing in the doorway on his way back to Government House, he said to the Team, “I suggest you try not to bombard Ms. Ndoye with questions.”

Ayo regarded the three pairs of eyes looking at her. **I wonder who’ll start? Poole is the DI, but Fidel seems to be chomping at the bit to talk.** To her surprise, it was Dwayne who said while guiding her around the counter, “Why don’t you come in and tell us what you can. Camille says she doesn’t have the authority to talk about anything. Do you? Can you?”

“I’ll tell you what I can,” said Ayo following Dwayne. She stopped. “Oh! One moment please.” She went to the door. Dwayne looked around and down to see a large dog coming through the door. The dog stood next to Ayo. “If you will lead the way, Mr. Myers.”

‘Call me Dwayne.” “Dwayne it is then.” 

All three individuals made their back to the office area of the station. Once back there, the dog began to investigate the area. This slightly unnerved Richard and amused Fidel. **Outside of babies, insects, snakes and falling into the sea, is there anything the Chief is not afraid of?**

“What type of dog is that?” asked Fidel. “I’ve never seen one like that before.”

“His name is Kwame and he’s a Rhodesian Ridgeback. The breed is indigenous to South Africa where I was born. They are also called the African Lion Hound.” Ayo brought the chair around from Camille’s desk and sat in it. The dog came and lay at her feet. “I’d like you all to let him sniff your hands before we begin. And please be quick, we’ve only got about 20 minutes before Camille returns.” After everyone had complied, even a reluctant Richard Poole, Ayo began her tale.

“About eight years ago an organization was involved in an operation that encompassed several governments. Camille was one of those involved. As you probably know from her file, Camille attended the University of Paris, and then joined the National Police Force in Paris. What you don’t know is that she then went on to the Sûreté where she rose through the ranks. While there she was shot twice in the performance of her duties and received, I believe, three commendations for bravery. What is not in her file is that she rose up through the Special Branch area of the Sûreté in Geneva.”

“Really?” Fidel asked, wide eyed.

Dwayne had a smug look on his face but merely nodded and said, “I thought it could be something like that.”

Richard was mentally going over Camille’s file. There were no gaps anywhere. He knew when he’d met Camille, that she was working undercover. He also remembered thinking even as he was solving the murders that had brought him to the island, how things had had an ‘unfinished’ feel to them. In fact he remembered thinking that about quite a few cases he and the team had solved.

He frowned at Ayo and said, “If Camille rose up through the ranks of French policing, how did she come to be working as a police officer on an island in the British Territories? And what does that have to do with our murder victim?”

Ayo noted the time, the expressions on the three men’s faces, and settled in to tell them what she could in the amount of time left before Camille returned to the station.

 

* Senegalese for – How are you?


End file.
